


Honest Broadcast

by arrowsshootyouforwards



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Inspired by Vicar of Dibley episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowsshootyouforwards/pseuds/arrowsshootyouforwards
Summary: In an attempt to Boost Morale, Rimmer suggests the crew put together radio broadcasts for each other during their offshift time. When he gets no volunteers, he goes himself and makes some surprising confessions.Inspired by an episode of the Vicar of Dibley
Relationships: Implied Rimmer/OC
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Honest Broadcast

Here they went again, Lister thought. Another one of Rimmer’s ‘ _Morale Boosting’_ ideas that was likely to flop quicker than Vine. Lister was in their bunk room on Starbug, setting up his old DJ equipment that he’d once convinced Rimmer not to jettison in lieu of a missile. He ran the tests, hearing back through his security radio from Kryten that he was coming in loud and clear on the frequency and switched the equipment offline.

Rimmer strode confidently into the room, he’d been in that broom cupboard he liked to pretend was his war room, planning his broadcast. He’d been in there for the last three hours and now he strode in, notepad under his arm, his chest puffed out in pride. “Got it working Listy?” He asked, smugly fingering the spine of his notepad.

“Well, took some rewiring, but she’s all set up, just hit that button,” he pointed to a button that read ‘begin broadcast’ which Rimmer pressed, “and give the panel a good smash with your fist on the spots I marked with an ‘X’” Lister informed him, earning a dirty look from Rimmer who watched as he hit his fist on the 9 _Xs_ marked in sharpie. Lister leaned into the microphone he’d rigged up, “sound check, can you hear us Krytes?” He asked.

“Loud and clear sir,” Kryten’s voice echoed through the radio from the cockpit.

Smiling, Lister stood from the chair and gestured for Rimmer to sit, which he did and began leafing through his notes. “Right, you’re all set, I rigged the stereo up to the panel with the CDs you insisted on,” he said, showing him the buttons and knobs that controlled starting songs to play and the volume controls. “Take it away man,” he said, turning and climbing to settle into his bunk.

Rimmer turned to face him, suddenly nervous. “Um, don’t you want to go and listen with the others?” Rimmer asked, his tone hinting it was more a suggestion than an actual question.

“Nah,” Lister said, picking up his magazine from where he’d left it, “’sides, when the equipment, and I quote, ‘blows up in your face like the volcano on Fiji,’ someone’s gonna have to put it all back together again.”

Grumbling, Rimmer turned back to the microphone and took a deep breath before beginning.

“Good evening, this is Second Technician, Arnold Judas Rimmer, BSC, SSC, 12 years long service with the JMC, and I’ll be here, for the next hour. Well, perhaps a bit longer, the Scutters have prepared an impromptu performance on their Hammond Organs, just for the occasion, and they have informed me, it could go on if they get carried away with the solos.” Behind Rimmer, Lister was leafing through his magazine, only half paying attention to the broadcast. Originally, each member of the team was meant to put one together, but when he was short on volunteers, Rimmer had resigned to go first, in an attempt to boost the morale, about the morale boosting radio broadcast. “Anyway,” Rimmer continued, “I’ll be with you, for quite some time.” Behind him Lister checked his watch, already growing bored. “And I thought I’d begin with something you may find, very interesting.” Lister licked his finger to separate some pages that were sticking together as Rimmer paused for a breath. He shifted in his chair, gripped his fore arms and began.

“I first discovered I was gay,” Lister’s head shot so rapidly in Rimmer’s direction, that he almost got whiplash, “when I was 18,” Lister pushed himself up into a sitting position so quickly the thud of his head on the panel was barely muffled by his dreads, though pain still spread from the area as Rimmer continued. “And I fell in love with a young farmhand called Justin.” Lister’s jaw dropped; his magazine lay completely forgotten in an overturned heap as he leaned forward, eager to listen to more of what Rimmer had to say. “He was beautiful,” Rimmer said, clear fondness in his voice, “I’ve been trying to tell you, what I’d like to call my dear friends, for many years. But it’s tricky. That’s the lovely thing about radio, speaking into this microphone here, alone tonight, I can say things, I could never say to you, face to face…”

Lister listened, enamoured by Rimmer’s broadcast, hoping to talk to him at some point. Sadly, he never got the chance. During the Skutters’, rather extended, Hammond Organ recital, Rimmer was too caught up in the music to have his attention taken away, as he used his fingers to follow the beat, eyes shut. He looked calmer, Lister noted, like a huge weight had been lifted from him. Lister was chuffed for him, that he had had the confidence to come out to them all like that and he hoped that the others would respond as positively as he planned to, to the announcement.

At the end of the broadcast drew close, Lister could tell, Rimmer was running low on his charge and wouldn’t stick around too long after signing off. “Thank you, my friends for listening. I’ll leave you now with this classic tune, take it away Skutters.” Rimmer pushed the button Lister had showed him and transferred the feed through to the Skutters.

Rimmer dragged his fingers through his curls as Lister stood from his bunk applauding. “Wow man, didn’t expect that to come outta this.”

Rimmer looked up at him through tired eyes. “You really think it was alright?”

“Alright? It was amazing. You shoudda seen me, I was hanging onto your every word.”

“Thanks Listy, you know I really feel as though I’ve had a weight lifted from my chest. I’m going to go plug myself in for a recharge. See you in a couple of hours for change over,” he said, smiling like he hadn’t in many years.

A few hours later, Lister made his way to the cockpit, thankfully arriving before Rimmer and had a chance to talk to the others after changeover instructions were passed on. “Alright guys, look, just quickly, before Rimmer gets here, the stuff he said, it was really brave of him, so when he get’s here, maybe show a bit of support?”

Before he could say anything further, the doors slid open and Rimmer entered, shyly approaching his station, eyes on the panels.

“Excellent show sir,” Kryten kicked off with just a bit too much enthusiasm, followed by the Cat.

“Yeah, good show goalpost head.”

Rimmer, touched, straightened up, pride in his eyes, “why- Why, thank you both of you. Um, excuse me a moment, I think I forgot to turn off the master switch on my charging port,” Rimmer hurried out of the room and Lister waited a moment before addressing Kryten and the Cat, folding his arms and not believing their smeg for a second.

“Did either of you actually listen to his show?” He asked, planting his feet by his pilots’ chair.

Cat responded first, standing from his seat and pushing past Lister, “you mad? I got better things to do than be bored to death by goalpost head on my shift,” he said, leaving the cockpit.

Kryten stood, at least having the gall to look even a little guilty as he said: “lie mode deactivate,” before sheepishly nodding to Lister and following the Cat out to get started on his duties.

Lister sighed, plopping down into his chair and setting the auto pilot to continue on their current course, muttering about what “total and utter Smegheads” his crewmates were as he did so.


End file.
